Reconcile

Woe the soul, its spirit worn

Wounds of guilt betray the heart,

Ne’er release to love anew,

Chains of fault keep lovers apart.

What end may come,

 If restate what was,

Will thrice spent mortar,

Build stout wall of cause?

History need never deny,

Brash choices made in haste,

Let future hold none but truth

For harmony of souls, love again be chaste.

Face facts of blame, cleanse the spirit,

Seize the hour to own the day,

Accept your pain, grief, and despair,

For want of flesh, you did betray.

For love the goal,

No price too steep,

An abundance awaits,

True souls to reap.

Knowledge Belongs to We

Youth may not Narcissus be,

Nor elderly own Solomon’s ken,

Ideas once forbidden fruit,

Egos may never bend.

When sought in need,

Misfortune often cause,

Must want of years for evermore,

Give advantage call for pause?

Does time endured warrant right,

To defeat untested opponent,

Could knowledge new,

Sound argument be component?

Scales of Justice, decisions to make

Choice belabors the mind,

Is discord bred by lack of skill,

Or patience left behind?

Let none who seek wisdom to gain,

Deny the facts at hand,

For knowledge is gifted to one and all,

Throughout the ages spanned.

Ode to False Perfection


Mr. Perfect arrives, exquisite Ms. Ideal, by his side,

See how they stand, such flawless poise,

No sound of dissent, not one single noise.

They sashay cross the floor, in symphonic stride,

A nod here, a smile there, as they greet false fans,

While waving their sanctimonious hands.

As if in review, no hair out of place,

All lessor beings must bow low to their stature,

Hiding the fact, that we all see the fracture.

As I turn to observe their opposite face,

Glaring vision attacked my eyes,

I’ve never imaged pants with rear flies.

A chuckle I buried, if just to save grace,

Mr. Perfect waddled, bowed legs were a sight,

Ms. Ideal no better, her brown trail a blight,

As they pranced toward the door, in regal fashion,

I thought to myself, my sins no greater,

Then those who would judge to call me a hater.

So I say unto those who wish to cash in,

Keep your nose to the sky,

Kiss my ass, that’s my passion.

Taste at Sunset


Sunset nigh, a time to reflect.

Memories abound, an orphan tear.

What souls well met, did hearts conspire,

To seek love, bereft of fear.

Alone you sit, your scent transcends,

Lingering taste, of kiss sublime.

Supple lips, an accord of desire,

Hearts entwine, to last for all time.

With thoughts empowered, no folly be known,

Our bodies tremble neath setting sun.

The universe ablaze, each breath a prayer,

Enjoined in love, we unite as one.

He Had A Dream

Gone the man

Voice now still

Within old hearts

His words yet thrill

 The road he trod

Once blocked by hate

Succumbed the day

Wisdom unlocked the gate.

 Sparks ignited

Soon grew to flame

A million times a million

Hailed his name.

 Belief in his dream

Their will to oppose

Wrongs of the past

Multitudes arose.

 Gird by their faith

No armor they wore

Truth was their sword

His strength to the fore.

Thru force of their spirits

Their faith changed a world

But gone is the man

His dream now imperiled

 New voices of hate

Rage thru the night

Bringing fear and pain

To a once righteous fight.

 A false leader did rise

His voice honey laced

Great change did he promise

A throne he debased.

 Now heard in their prayers

The elders proclaim

Belief in his dream

A return of the flame.

 For he was KING

Without need of a throne.

Ode to False Perfection

OMG, Mr. Perfect has arrived, with exquisite Ms. Ideal, there by his side,

See how they stand, such perfect poise,

No sound of dissent, not one single noise.

They sashay cross the floor, in symphonic stride,

A nod here, a smile there, as they greet false fans,

While waving their sanctimonious hands.

As if in review, no hair out of place,

All lessor beings must bow low to their stature,

Hiding the fact, that we all see the fracture.

As I turn to observer their opposite face,

Glaring vision attacked my eyes,

I’ve never imaged pants with rear flys.

A chuckle I buried, if just to save face,

Mr. Perfect waddled, bowed legs were a sight,

Ms. Ideal no better, her brown trail a blight,

As they pranced toward the door, in regal fashion,

I thought to myself, my sins are no greater,

Then those who would judge to call me a hater.

So I say unto those who wish to cash in,

Keep your nose to the sky,

Kiss my ass, that’s my passion.

*This one is stupid but fun to play with – I’m learning to add humor.

Hawk Stone

A True Story of Mitakuye Oyasin

One afternoon, returning from an appointment, as I was driving west on Delmar Boulevard, close to Old Bonnehomme Road in Clayton, MO., a Red Tail hawk swooped down in front of the car ahead of me. This is not an uncommon occurrence in Missouri but for it to happen on a busy street at the beginning of rush hour was unusual. Unfortunately for the hawk, he was not careful enough to avoid the car and was struck.

The car that hit the hawk kept going as if nothing happened. As I got close enough, I stopped my car, out on the emergency lights and got out to see if there was anything I could do. Tragically, the injuries sustained by the hawk were massive, and he appeared to be dead.

Having work gloves in my car, along with small, plastic garbage bags, I set about picking the hawk up to transport him to the wild. As I slowly picked him up, one talon grabbed onto a flat stone and locked it in place. It was almost as though he was clinging to life but failed.

I tried to remove the stone, but it was as tough complete rigor mortis had rapidly set in, and I could not remove it. Taking this as a sign, I brought the body home and amputated both talons and a few feathers which I preserved. The remainder of the body, I took out to Creve Couer Park, near the Missouri River and returned it to the wild.

Since that day, I sense I have a connection to a power greater than myself.

I feel my eyes opened to the true meaning of Mitakuye Oyasin.